I Dare You to Do Better
by Dawnstorm101
Summary: After her father's death, Morgan found herself disillusioned with the superhero world, but one day, after a chance meeting, Nate Barton tries to talk her into joining the Young Avengers. (Inspired by Star Trek 2009, but you don't need to know anything about the movie to read this.)


A/N: This fic is the result of me going "Holy cRaP, Morgan & Tony are Jim & George, I have FEELINGS." I made an edit on Tumblr, but it wasn't enough to satisfy me, so I decided to do a drabble, which turned into several days of me writing and editing a full one-shot. Fun times! I hope you enjoy the result of my efforts!

* * *

Morgan sprawled across a bench in Central Park, her notebook propped on her knees. She took a breath and let her head fall back, forgetting about the math for a moment. Normally, some good tough calculus in the sunny park would help clear her mind, but today it just wasn't working, wasn't overriding the feeling deep in her gut that something would happen today. Today, of all days, the day she always wanted nothing more than to just be left alone.

She reached up to fidget with her beanie, trying to ignore the ache in her heart.

"Get off me!"

Her eyes snapped open. Not far off, a beefy bald guy held the wrist of a young woman in a tank top and running shorts. She glared up at him, but he just leered at her. "Come on, little lady. Dressing like that is just begging for attention."

Morgan was up and moving, notebook abandoned, before she had consciously decided to act. "Dressing like what?" she called. "Like she wants to go for a run in peace?"

The woman's eyes widened, but the man just turned a disdainful eye on her. "Stay out of this, little girl."

Morgan lifted her chin, drawing herself up to her full five-foot-three height. With deliberate slowness, she rolled up her sleeves to expose muscles honed by years of martial arts training. "Let her go. Please."

The man huffed. "Make me."

A swift kick to the back of his knee brought him crashing down to her height. Lazily, she stepped behind him, grabbing his wrist and yanking his arm up behind his back. He squealed in shock and pain.

"Let her go."

He did. Immediately.

_If this is what my gut feeling was about, I'm rather disappointed._

Still, he tried to intimidate her. "I'll- I'll call the cops on you-"

"Really?" Morgan asked. "Cause from where I'm standing, you can't do a damn thing."

He tried to tug his wrist free. She held on with hardly any effort.

Until something took him from her.

In the blink of an eye, he was gone. A breeze pulled him from her hand, carrying him over to her bench and handcuffing him to it. Tears of relief started to fall down his angry red cheeks.

The breeze materialized into a teenaged boy. Tall and wiry with a head of fluffy brown hair, he stopped in front of the woman, his voice as soft as his deep brown eyes. "Are you all right?"

_Ah,_ Morgan thought, recognizing him. _There's the answer that gut feeling._

"Y-yes, thanks to her," she said, nodding at Morgan.

He smiled, flipping open one compartment of a black utility belt to pull out a tiny notepad and pen. "If you could just leave your contact information for the police, you can be on your way."

She nodded and took the notepad, still looking rather baffled by the whole thing, as if she hadn't expected her morning to end in being saved by first a teenage girl, and then an even younger Young Avenger.

Only then did Nate turn to her. It had been years since she had last seen any of the Bartons, and with an arched eyebrow, she cast an appraising glance over his suit. It was made of a thick, likely bulletproof material, but fitted to be aerodynamically snug. Patches of black and a purple so dark it was almost black swirled together like clouds. A hawk was outlined on his chest in deep blue, its wings spread wide in flight, stretching diagonally from his shoulder down to his side. "Nice suit, Nathaniel."

He looked down with a shrug, brushing some dirt off his knee. "It's functional. And comfy."

"I'm sure it is."

He gestured at her head. "You still wear beanies. Cute."

"You're as observant as ever, I see."

His hand flew to his heart in mock offense.

"Excuse me?"

Rapidly regaining a professional expression, Nate turned. The woman held out his notepad and pen. "I'm done. Thank you, both of you."

Nate smiled. "Any time." He darted over to the man, shifting the cuffs to lock around both of his wrists. "Be right back!" he called over his shoulder to Morgan, and in a puff of wind, he and the man were gone.

The woman blinked and resumed her jog, putting her phone to her ear. Morgan rolled her eyes and grabbed her notebook, shoving it in her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. She had no intention of being drawn into a conversation with old friends today.

She hardly made it five steps before he was back. "That was fast."

"I just drop guys like that off in the lobby with a note taped to their foreheads. It's not a long process."

Morgan started walking again. "That's nice. Bye."

He breezed around her, walking backwards in front of her. "What's the rush?"

"I know what you're going to say, and I don't want to hear it."

"I just wanna catch up."

"No."

He stuck out his bottom lip, softening into the puppy eyes he had perfected when they were kids. "Pretty please?"

Morgan sighed. Keeping him hanging until she came across another bench, she dumped her bag and dropped down onto it. "Fine. Only because the alternative is walking and I'm feeling lazy."

He grinned, plopping down on the other side of her bag. "So! You're, what, 16? Have you graduated college yet?"

Morgan laughed, leaning her head back. "God no, my life is crazy enough without skipping grades. I'm just a high schooler."

"Lame."

She smacked him. "What about you? You're only- how old _are _you? You snap victims always confuse me."

"Well, lucky for you, my biological age and my birth certificate age match up today, so I'm 14," he answered with mock cheerfulness. "If you subtract the snap from my birth certificate age, anyway."

"Oi," Morgan groaned. "I have a headache just thinking about that."

"At least you don't have to live it, there is gonna be _so much _red tape around things like getting my permit."

Morgan furrowed her brows. "You're a speedster, you don't _need_ a car."

"It's the principal of the thing! I _want _a license. It's cool."

She rolled her eyes. "So anyway, how'd you convince your parents to let you join the Young Avengers? Cause you've been on the team for a year or two, right? Awfully young to be a superhero."

"About a year," he confirmed, leaning back and stretching his arms out. "They didn't have a choice. Once my powers manifested, I had to use them. My siblings were Young Avengers, my dad and Aunt Nat were Avengers, and _Tetka_ Wanda still is one. I was raised to be a hero."

"Mhm. And how did you _really_ convince them?"

"Puppy eyes. Works like a charm."

"If only those worked on my mom," Morgan sighed. "They certainly worked on Dad."

Nate sobered, lifting his head to look at her. "How are you, Morgan? Really."

Her eyes drifted shut, and in the darkness, she searched for the few memories she had, the ones that grew fainter with every passing year. Twelve years fainter, to be precise. Twelve years to the day since her mom had come home to tell her Daddy never would. "I just… am."

Nate took her hand, and she didn't fight him, letting their fingers twine together as they had on the last anniversary they had spent together. "I'm here if you need me."

Morgan opened her eyes, rolling her head to look at him. "How about you?"

He shrugged, dropping his gaze to a squirrel foraging on the other side of the path. "I still feel guilty for being relieved Aunt Nat died so my dad didn't."

She squeezed his hand. "She'd understand, Nate. You know she would."

"Maybe," he allowed. A brief flicker of a smile crossed his face. "She wouldn't have fallen for puppy eyes."

"Oh, _hell_ no."

Nate's laugh trailed off. Taking a deep breath, he licked his lips and sat up, leaning towards her. "I know… I know you don't want to hear this, but-"

Morgan dropped his hand. "Then don't you _dare _say it."

"They would want it," he pressed, his eyes pleading. "Our aunt, your dad – they would be proud of you."

She grabbed her bag and stood. "I'm not going to do the exact thing that got them both killed, Nathaniel."

He stood, following her. "Plenty of people have survived it, Morgan. We have a lot of backup these days! The Young Avengers are, well, young, so we don't even get to face the really dangerous guys."

She slung it over her shoulder and continued marching away. "No, Nate. That was my answer before, it's my answer now, and it always _will _be my answer."

"But _why_?" he asked. "And don't tell me it's because you don't want to – I've seen you looking at your parents' old suits when you think no one's looking, that look that goes through your eyes in the split second before you pretend to scoff anyone suggesting you should try them on. You _want _to fly. You _want _to save people. _So why don't you_?"

Morgan whipped around, making him stumble to a halt, and glared up at him, seriously missing the days she had been taller. "Because I know what the superhero life leaves behind, whether the hero survives or not."

"So do I, and here I am."

"You _don't_," Morgan snarled. "Your parents are alive. They got to watch you grow up."

"_I died_, Morgan," Nate shot back. "That's my first memory – turning to dust and then coming back. I remember my mom's face when she called my dad after and the call cut off. I remember my mom and siblings when Dad said Aunt Nat wasn't coming home, that I would never get to meet her."

"It's _different _when it's your parent! I'm his _legacy_. Being Iron Man nearly broke my dad even before he died – I don't _want _to know the pressure of being Iron Man's daughter."

"I'm a legacy too, Morgan," Nate said fiercely. "Remember my middle name? I'm _named _for a fallen hero, for the man who died before I was born so I could know my dad. I see the way _Tetka_ Wanda looks at me when she thinks I can't see her. She almost gets more concerned about me than my parents do when I'm sick or hurt. And when I collapsed and we learned I had superspeed like her brother…"

He shook his head. "I live with that pressure every day. If I die, she loses her twin all over again. But I can't ignore my calling. I can't ignore that I was raised to do the right thing, that I'm alive because of the heroes who saved and raised me. It would dishonor them."

"I choose to honor my dad by _living_. Not following the path that destroyed him."

"You're surviving," Nate agreed. "But you're not thriving. You were meant for something better than a boringly easy high school career and days spent alone in a park stopping the occasional creep. You hide from your genius mind and heroic heart. You hide from what makes you a _Stark_. And watching it hurts."

"Then enjoy your suffering," Morgan hissed. "I can find plenty of other ways to do good."

She whirled back around, meaning to storm off, but Nate grabbed her hand. "If you're half the hero your father was, Morgan, the Young Avengers could use you. My sister and Riri are about ready to graduate to the adult team, and once Riri's gone, the city will need a new iron girl to protect it. We-"

Morgan glowered at him, yanking her hand out of his. "_We_ are done here. Right?"

Nate searched her face for a long moment, and finally, he stepped back. "I guess we are."

"Good." He didn't sound or look very reluctant – in fact, she could've sworn she saw the glint of some realization flash in his eye. Ignoring that thought, she turned around, gripping her bag with a tight fist. "Follow me and get punched in the face. And, by the way," she tossed over her shoulder, "if I _were_ a hero, I would definitely be more than half as good as my dad."

Nate didn't follow, but she could feel his eyes on her, watching her, and it felt more like he was biding his time than letting her leave. Still, she ignored him, and he just watched her walk away. Until the exact moment she couldn't quite hold the anger anymore, the exact moment she let her shoulders slump the tiniest bit, because damn it, he was _right_. That moment, he seized. "Your father was Iron Man for 15 years," he called after her. "He saved billions of lives, including your brother's, and yours.

"I dare you to do better."

Morgan's step faltered.

_Define lunch or be disintegrated._

It had been her dream once, a suit and superhero name of her own. Was it so impossible that it could be again?

_Building a suit would be easy enough, after all… and I can kick ass in a fight._

_Damn it. Why'd he have to make it a dare?_

-MCU-

Two days later, she crashed down in the field outside of the Avengers compound, interrupting a Young Avengers sparring session with a perfect superhero landing.

Nate slid to a halt, casting his own appraising glance over her outfit, the rest of the team exchanging delighted glances behind him. "Iron Girl?" he asked.

Morgan rose to her feet, sunlight glinting off her purple and gold suit, and let her helmet melt away. "Amethyst."

He grinned. "Swifthawk. Welcome to the team, Miss Stark."

* * *

A/N: (She totally built that suit overnight but waited the extra time just to mess with Nate again. Whom I accidentally started shipping her with? They get together about a year after this and their ship name is Morthaniel and he's the sunshine tol while she's the angry smol I love them.)

Also, some explanation about the biological age thing: Thanos's snap was in May 2018 (well, Peter's wiki says he died in the spring, I just picked May) and Bruce's was in October 2023, meaning the dusted were dead for slightly over 5 years. So, say Nate's bday was August 2015 - he would've turned to dust at 2 years and 9 months. Upon being resurrected in October, his birth certificate birthday would've been 10 months away, but biologically, he would've hit 3 years old only 3 months later. So. Two separate ages. I imagine they would still celebrate bdays on the birth certificate day and after a certain point the difference wouldn't matter too much, but during childhood and all those growth milestones, doctors and parents would likely want to take that into account.


End file.
